


draw me closer, like a magnet

by unethicalcoffee



Category: THE iDOLM@STER, THE iDOLM@STER: Cinderella Girls
Genre: Anime: The iDOLM@STER Cinderella Girls, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:41:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23725486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unethicalcoffee/pseuds/unethicalcoffee
Summary: Every time Rin looks back at Uzuki, she’s staring. Her body is burning from the tips of her toes to the top of her head, and she can feel her hands shake ever so slightly.“Maybe. I don’t know. This song isn’t just about love, is it? It’s about... wanting someone.”“Yeah. I guess that’s not something idols are supposed to do, huh?”
Relationships: Shibuya Rin/Shimamura Uzuki
Kudos: 28





	draw me closer, like a magnet

i.

“A love song?”

Rin looks at Uzuki, first. She looks uncertain — which is to be expected, but still kind of stings. Uzuki looks back, maybe for some kind of reassurance, or just to see Rin’s reaction. Rin knows her face must be stony, because Uzuki’s frown deepens and her eyebrows furrow just a little. It’s not like her to hide her feelings, to make herself unreadable. And Uzuki knows that. 

Rin turns to the producer. He’s sat on the sofa across from them both, his posture stiff as ever. Maybe more so, even. His face is just as stony. 

“A love song,” he confirms. There is a silence which seems to last a lifetime. 

“Producer-san…” Uzuki begins, at last. She pauses, and Rin waits again, the silence heavy with — she doesn’t know what. “Why?”

Rin wonders what she means by that. Why what? Why the two of you? Her face feels warm and her heart is racing, but she hopes it doesn’t show. She knows it doesn’t.

“Director Mishiro has ordered it. The two of you are to perform this” — he gestures towards a small stack of paper, on the table between you — “love song.”

After a moment, Rin reaches for it, and hands a copy to Uzuki. She accepts silently. Rin flicks through the pages, ignoring the melodies for now and focusing on the lyrics. The song is called “magnet”. She reads aloud.

“What we’re doing might be forbidden, even so... tell me you don’t think this is a mistake…”

She looks at Uzuki again. Uzuki meets her gaze for a second, smiles nervously, and quickly looks away. Not at the producer, but down at the pages in her hand. She seems thoughtful — not disgusted _,_ at least, so that’s something.

“Uzuki,” she says, carefully, “we don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

Another moment passes. The producer is silent. 

“What do you want, Rin-chan?”

Her heart stops, for a moment. She usually tries to be as honest as possible, but this is one of those rare circumstances where it doesn’t feel like honesty is the right thing. But she can’t lie outright either, as much as she kind of wants to — it just isn’t who she is. What comes out is only a lie by omission. 

“I’m not against it. I think… this kind of love should be accepted. And we have the power to make a statement about that. It might be hard but it— it’ll make a difference.”

The producer doesn’t smile with his mouth — he never does — but he smiles with his eyes, and he nods. Rin feels a little reassured by that. When she turns back to Uzuki, her uncertainty seems to have vanished.

“You’re so brave, Rin-chan. And you’re right. I want to do this with you.”

She is smiling from ear to ear, and Rin wants to hold her so badly she can barely breathe.

Rin and Uzuki are meeting alone to practice magnet together for the first time. In fact, Rin thinks, they’re meeting alone to practice together for the first time, full stop. It’s always with Mio, with the entire Cinderella project, with teachers and trainers, but never alone. It was Uzuki’s idea, actually — she had said that, as much as she was sure she wanted to do this, she needed to figure out how, and that they should figure it out together, without any imposition from anyone else. It made perfect sense for the project, so Rin had agreed, completely underestimating how anxious she’d be. 

So, of course, she hasn’t had much sleep. Over the past few days she’s spent endless hours poring over this song in her own time, thinking about how to make it work. Every time she sings and thinks of Uzuki, she can’t help but feel _wrong_ — like she’s taking advantage of her, somehow. Her head spins thinking of Uzuki and wondering if she’s ever felt this way about anyone, if she could ever feel this way about Rin. She feels absolutely awful, and begins to wonder if she should have agreed to this project after all.

“Have you ever been in love?” 

Rin figures it makes sense to ask. Even if she wasn’t curious, it seems like Uzuki wants to talk to her alone so they can talk about feelings. They haven’t even started looking at magnet together yet, but it seems important to know, if they have to pretend to be in love — well, Rin doesn’t have to pretend.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, Uzuki is startled. “I… don’t think so.” It’s not a clear answer, but it seems honest. “What about you, Rin-chan? Have you ever been in love?”

Rin smiles, hoping it doesn’t look too awkward. Then again, every time she feels awkward people tell her she just seems mysterious. “Yeah,” she admits. She knows Uzuki’s going to want more than that, but she is silent, unsure how to approach this conversation without revealing too much. Surely enough, Uzuki prods.

“You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to, Rin-chan… but if you do maybe it will help me understand— for the project.”

“For the project,” Rin repeats, in a murmur. She can’t read Uzuki’s expression there, and she’s terrified, so she treads carefully. “This person— I love them with all of my heart, honestly. It can be painful, really painful, but it’s also really wonderful. It’s like— like, when I think of them, I really believe that there’s good in the world. Because they’re in it.”

Rin can’t look Uzuki in the face when she says these things, but she looks at her now, to see her reaction. She’s looking back, with — Rin doesn't know what. Wonder, maybe? Like she’s seeing her for the first time.

“Do they return your feelings?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Then they’re an idiot,” she blurts. She looks just as surprised as you are at her own words, but she recovers quickly. “Rin-chan, what about… you know…”

She _does_ know. But she waits for Uzuki to say it.

“What about… passion?”

“You mean sex?”

She turns red as a tomato, but she laughs. “I love how blunt you are, Rin-chan.”

And that horrible, guilty feeling comes back. Well, it never really left, but it hits differently this time. Rin doesn’t feel guilty about Uzuki’s embarrassment, really, but she feels like she’s a fraud, because she’s not as good or as honest as Uzuki thinks. 

“I’ve never had sex, but, like— yeah, I think about it. And I— I want it. I think that’s pretty normal, right?” You pause. “What about you, Uzuki?”

Every time Rin looks back at Uzuki, she’s staring. Her body is burning from the tips of her toes to the top of her head, and she can feel her hands shake ever so slightly.

“Maybe. I don’t know. This song isn’t just about love, is it? It’s about... wanting someone.”

“Yeah. I guess that’s not something idols are supposed to do, huh?” Saying it aloud, Rin finds herself wondering, again: why? To tap into that overseas market? To cause a stir? She wonders what Director Mishiro could be thinking. She wonders what the producer thinks of it all. But most of all she can’t stop wondering: why them? How in the world did she end up working on a love song — a song _specifically_ about love between two women — with the girl she’s secretly in love with? 

After a moment, Uzuki places her hand on Rin’s, dragging her from her thoughts. It’s not the first time she’s held her hand, but it’s gentler than it’s ever been, more tentative. “Rin-chan, I’ve been trying to understand this song but I’m not sure what I’m doing. Could you— could you please— pretend to want me?”

Rin doesn’t have to pretend, of course. But therein lies the problem. And anyway, “What do you mean?” Uzuki’s cheeks are red, still.

“Like… could you please kiss me?”

Rin thinks about it. She thinks — she _knows_ , frankly — that it’s a horrible idea. That it will mean nothing to Uzuki, that it will mean everything to Rin, that it could very well ruin their friendship. And yet she brings her hand to her mouth, and presses it to her lips. 

“Rin-chan,” she laughs, before her voice lowers to a whisper. “Kiss my lips.” 

Rin is more than a little surprised to hear Uzuki drop the ‘please’, that her eyes betray a desperate, half-formed want. But for what? For Rin? Or just to be touched? Against her better judgement, Rin kisses her again. Not her mouth, as she’s asked, but the palm of her hand, and then her wrist. Her eyes grow dark, and everything that comes next is quick and heady and confusing — but it’s also long and slow — and Rin can’t be sure, after the fact, if it really happened at all. 

Uzuki takes her face in her hands and their lips collide. She’s gentle, at first, but before long her tongue is in Rin’s mouth and their teeth are clashing loudly. It’s as messy as she never expected, especially from Uzuki, and then it’s over. And she supposes it must have been real, because of what Uzuki says. 

“I’m sorry, Rin-chan.” 

But what for?

“It’s fine. Let’s just try singing the song, okay?”

Uzuki is different, after that. 

A few days later, she says she’s confident she wants the main vocal in magnet. It makes sense, musically — her voice is more suited to the high parts, and Rin’s to the lower, huskier harmonies — but at first Rin wasn’t sure she’d be able to play it right, and she thought she’d want to take the backseat. But Rin was wrong about what Uzuki wanted, and she was wrong for doubting her. Uzuki has always been full of energy, but this _fire_ is something Rin wasn’t sure she had in her. And then she feels guilty, again, for patronising. Uzuki _is_ a teenage girl, after all, with desires. Just like her.

It’s one day, a few weeks into the project. They’re practicing the dance routine for magnet and Uzuki’s phone goes off. It’s not like her phone has never gone off in the middle of practice before, but Rin supposes it must have always been on silent. Today, a distinct strain of a capella rings forth from her bag — Rin’s, to be exact, with Karen and Nao’s harmonies. Before the backing track even has time to kick in, Uzuki has bolted directly towards her phone, nearly tripping over you, to take the call without even looking at the caller. “I’m sorry, I’ll call you later,” she yelps into the phone, slamming it shut. 

She doesn’t look at Rin for the rest of the session. Their trainer loses patience with her inability to meet her partner’s gaze while performing a love song, and calls it a day.

As they leave the studio, Rin asks in as casual a manner as possible, “So your ringtone is Trancing Pulse, huh?”

“Um, yeah,” she confirms, awkwardly. “Is that weird?”

“No! Not at all. It’s just— it’s sweet. You’re sweet.” Rin smiles at her, trying her best to be reassuring. She’s also trying her best not to read too much into it. When you’re friends with idols that’s just what being a supportive friend looks like, right? And it’s not just Rin’s song either, it’s Triad Primus’ — it’s Karen and Nao’s too. 

Uzuki is twiddling some of her hair near her face and smiling shyly. Rin kind of wants to ask — she’s been wanting to ask for a long while, but what if it’s nothing? What if she says something and that’s it, their friendship is over, everything’s over?

“Rin-chan,” she begins, and stops walking. Rin follows suit. “To tell the truth— well, I want to take a page out of your book, Rin-chan. You’re so honest and straightforward, you aren’t afraid to say what needs to be said, and I want to be brave, like you.” She takes a shuddering breath. “I love you. As more than a friend. I’m sorry if I was being weird or confusing before— I was kind of figuring it out myself. I’m sorry for kissing you like that and pretending it meant nothing, that nothing happened. You deserve so much better than that, Rin-chan. And I understand if you don’t want to work together on this project anymore, if I’ve made you uncomfortable or anything. All of this just made me realise… that my feelings for you were something… different. And new. It’s all new, for me.”

Rin hardly knows what to say. Hardly believes it’s real, to be honest. Her heart drops to her stomach — she feels horrible, like she might cry. 

“You’re wrong. I’m not brave at all. I’ve loved you for the longest time, Uzuki, and I never had the courage to tell you.”

Uzuki won’t hear it. She steps forward, throwing her arms around Rin. She just holds her, for a moment, waiting until Rin will let herself accept it. Her voice is so close when she speaks. “I’m sorry you’ve been hurting all this time, Rin-chan.”

And she can’t take that. She can’t take Uzuki blaming herself. Rin feels her laughter in her body as she speaks. “We’re so silly, aren’t we?”

  
  
  
  
  


ii.

But things only get more complicated, and Rin stays angry at herself. There are times when everything else melts away, times when she’s never been happier. But there are also times when she wishes — and she hates herself for this — that this had never happened to them. That this had never happened to Uzuki.

This is one of those times. They’re together, in Rin’s room, just the two of them. Uzuki loves to see Hanako and to visit the flower shop before going upstairs, so often this is where they spend their time alone. They’re on Rin’s bed, and Uzuki’s face is close, and she’s playing with Rin’s hair.

“I wish I could kiss you, Rin-chan. Wherever and whenever I want.”

So this is one of those times. Her big brown eyes are so full of love, and longing, and pain all at once. Rin is trying so hard to tell herself it’s not her fault; she’s trying so hard to _believe_ it’s not her fault. She puts her hand on top of Uzuki’s — the one on her cheek, with the fingers in her hair — and she kisses it.

“I know,” she says. “Me too.” And she hears her own voice break. They kiss, and Rin is always surprised that within seconds Uzuki feels like she’s on fire, like a frantic butterfly caught in a net. She kisses her so desperately, like every second of every hour of every day she’s ever wanted to (but couldn’t) touch Rin has come crashing on her all at once. Like if she doesn’t have her now, she might never have her again. She pulls Rin’s body close, like she can’t bear to be apart. And Rin won’t pretend it isn’t kind of intoxicating to be wanted like that, but she’s smart enough to know they can’t keep it up. That there’s a fine line between standing in a fire’s warmth and getting burned.

“Uzuki,” she whispers. She puts her hand on her shoulder, pushing her gently. She repeats, more firmly, “Uzuki, stop.”

And she does, without question. “I’m sorry,” she says. Her eyes look a little glassy.

“No, don’t be,” says Rin, gently tracing the line of her jaw. She smiles, trying to assure her she hasn’t done anything wrong, hasn’t been too forceful, or anything like that. “I just wanted to talk to you about something important, first. Is that okay?”

Uzuki’s eyes look a little clearer. She nods, and presses her forehead to Rin’s, listening. 

“I love you so much. Maybe more than anything. And—” she pauses, trying to figure out how to say what she wants (needs) to say. “Um. I understand if you don’t want to. It’s a really big risk and it could honestly finish your career as an idol. But I’m really serious about you, and I don’t think it’s good for either of us, or for our relationship, to keep this secret. We don’t have to, like, make a whole thing of it, but I think _someone_ should know. I think the people we love and trust could… I don’t know, support us. Help us.” She pauses. “What do you think? I’m sorry, I know it’s a lot.”

“Don’t be sorry, Rin-chan,” she says, immediately. But then she takes a moment, and Rin is as patient as she can be. “Rin-chan, are you worried about your career?”

It isn’t the response Rin was expecting. To be honest, as much as she had thought about this subject as a whole in great detail and at great length, her career had barely featured in that. “Not really, I don’t think so.” She pauses. “I love singing, and I love music. It would be a shame if I couldn’t work at 346pro, and it would honestly suck to not be able to sing with Karen and Nao anymore— not that it wouldn’t also suck to not be able to sing with everyone else, but like… I don’t know…”

“I get it,” Uzuki says, softly. And it sounds like she really means it. “You three just have, like, musical chemistry. And you have so much fun with them, Rin-chan. Are you sure you want to give that up?”

She considers it. “But I wouldn’t have to, right? I wouldn’t have to give up music. And I wouldn’t have to give up those friendships.” Then she remembers that Karen and Nao don’t know, and she doesn’t know how they’d react. “Or if I did lose those friendships… then maybe they were never my friends.”

And Uzuki looks at her the way she did all those weeks ago, when the producer told them about magnet, and she’d said she wanted to make a difference. She looks at her with love, and with pride. Rin’s heart feels full to bursting. “But what about you, Uzuki?”

“I don’t know,” she says. “But it’ll be an adventure, right? Whatever happens, I’ll do my best!”

So they’re in the producer’s office again, just the two of them, sat on the sofa across from him. He looks at their joined hands for a moment, and then back up at their faces. He’s unreadable, still — which is about what she should have expected, Rin supposes.

“Have you told anyone else?”

“No.”

“I see.” He pauses. “Do you plan to?”

Rin and Uzuki share a glance. “We don’t know,” says Rin. “We were kind of hoping… for your advice?”

That makes him stir. His eyes are a little wider, perhaps beginning to understand the gravity of the trust placed in him. Finally, he asks, “Do you want to?”

Rin feels Uzuki squeeze her hand. “We were thinking—” she looks to Rin for reassurance, and Rin smiles. She nods. “We were thinking we could, uh, make it public. With the release of magnet.”

It’s one of those rare occasions when the smile in his eyes reaches his mouth. “Very good,” he says. “We’ll make the arrangements.”

So this is it. Rin finds it strange to think how much has changed, how different things were when this project started. And she knows they didn’t have to make a big thing of it, but she’s kind of glad that’s what they’ve chosen to do. Together.

She still doesn’t fully understand why Director Mishiro did what she did. When Rin asked the producer, once, he only said that she must have seen their potential, their chemistry. Rin is sure it’s more complicated than that, but most of the time she’s content not to know. 

“Rin-chan?”

She turns to Uzuki. In the dimly lit underbelly of the stage, she sees her smiling. Uzuki is in a dress which matches her own; surprisingly, she really suits all the black and lace. She knows she’s afraid, too — they both are — and squeezes her hand. 

“I love you,” says Rin.

Uzuki grins. “I love you too,” she says, and kisses her cheek. “Let’s do our best!”

It’s that last segment of the dance — when the vocals are done, and only the instrumental denouement remains. The producer had told their dance trainer to change the original sequence around, so that they’d end the song facing one another instead of facing away. In practice sessions, they’d stripped it back to holding hands and staring into one another’s eyes all yearning — like the promo photos and the cover box for the single — but here, on stage, their intention all along had been to pull each other close and to kiss during those final notes. No yearning, no hiding. Not anymore.

As the stage lights dim and a medley of both cheers and less-than-pleased uproar ripples through the crowd, Rin pulls away, and she looks for Uzuki’s eyes in the dark. There’s a few seconds she can hardly breathe, and sees nothing, and then — and then there they are. Uzuki’s big brown eyes are glistening — and there’s fear, and exhilaration, and anticipation in them, but she’s looking at Rin like she’s the only person in the world. Staff are hissing at them to stop making out and to get off stage, but just for a moment, she figures it can’t hurt to ignore them. So she kisses her again.

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=egxSBhfjcTU


End file.
